


Dissension (English)

by Deserett



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Apocalypse, Dark, Gen, Post-Apocalypse, dead world, nuclear decay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-11-10 12:55:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11127399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deserett/pseuds/Deserett
Summary: When Doomsday comes, lonely God will survive





	Dissension (English)

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Dissension (Russian)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11127267) by [Deserett](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deserett/pseuds/Deserett). 



_Give me shelter from above_  
_Send two angels and a dove_  
_As we hang on to despair_  
_Tears of blood run from your eyes_  
_As we cannot hide the lies_  
_Breathing in this toxic air_  
  
© Front Line Assembly, "Dissension"

  
  
  
Everything is seen perfectly from the depths. The water is transparent, fine sand is curved with marble waves, pebbles are smooth... Ducks get down on the sea surface; prinking, swimming, plunging and playfully webbing their feet up and down, and then fly away.  
  
You're lying at the bottom, tied, with the glued and bandaged (to be safe) mouth, stare upwards with enlarged and red-rimmed eyes, catch slanting sunbeams, immersed in the dark blue water... Your muscles ache endeavouring to tear the strong fetters, they are so tight that hinder the shoulders from squaring and the breast from breathing the water into lungs and then die. The clenched ribs are creaking while the bare feet are tapping a meaningless dance on the marble sand, digging and leaving chaotic furrows behind.  
  
You're still attempting to inhale water, splashing joyfully very near to your nostrils, but you're dreaming of death in vain. You're immortal... and you have plenty of time for reflection on everything that has happened to you. Some things fell head over heels at rabid speed at once and some things was falling head over heels gradually without your eyes noticing... They're reddening more and more.  
  
It'll be centuries of concentrated reflections, of soul-searching and self-analysis, roughly tearing everything to clouts and strips. The sand will turn brown and the water will get dirty, will lose its crystal transparency and hide from you the explosions and the cataclysms occurring aloft. The sun will suffocate behind a radioactive cloud, and only carcasses of died ducks, going to the bottom, will become a revelation and give an insight. Knowledge... multiplying the sorrow.  
  
Water, poisoned with acid precipitations and salts of heavy metals, will erode your strong thousand-year shackles in the end, you'll break them and unfasten the huge hemisphere from your numb feet, which will have been pinning your down to the seabed, and you'll sky-rocket, faster and faster in an universal sweat.  
  
You'll resurface, covered with an oil film of petroleum residues, you'll break free to the nasty mutilated world, you'll inhale the toxic air, but won't feel neither burning nor deadliness. You've forgotten the taste of clear air, you were partaking of it too long ago. And the comparison has died in your head alongside the sky, it's fearfully plumbeous, an entire ozone hole. Shortwave ultraviolet is hitting you in the tender defenceless face, chucking free radicals out of cells, but you're undying, and the ulcers, which have covered your body, will burst themselves, dry up and fall off as thin susurrant layers of dead tissue.  
  
You'll walk naked on ruins, searching for the last traces of a self-destroyed civilization and you won't meet a single living soul. You'll be waiting for laughing and slander, erecting on the nude clown midst of piles of garbage and dust in vain, nobody'll dab with a finger and laugh.  
  
You have an eternity more to wander in the paradise, gobbled up by an atomic cloud, inquiring the threateningly overhanging sky of your fortune of the last guardian. And your "what for?" will be revoicing your steps - the only sound that will be heard in the fallen world silence. Until you remind everything you've preferred to forget. Until the memory extrude the truth for you by force.  
  
Your old umbrage, your grief, your despondency and the remembrance of the trial and the following sentence... everything'll choke and get bogged down in the silence. But you don't have even the regrets for the lost opportunity of perishing with everybody. You're immortal, you're not the image and likeness of the one who created you. You are the Demiurge, the very same, in the void of your greatness. The one, who was walking invisibly among people, but who was disclosed once, who was caught, subjected to torture and executed by hanging and then committed to the flames. But neither noose nor fire managed to kill you. And damp ground didn't accept you too. That's why you've been thrown into water.  
  
What for? For everything, that had been making you a god. For what that you're unlike to your sheep. For what that you're devoid of death, which your children had been feared so much. They have come to kill you with ugly presses of fright so that there would have been nobody superior to them, to make everybody equal. They've also killed animals for that reason... so that there would have been no inferiors. And everybody has become equal. And the bloodshed has begun after, aimless, ceaseless and terrifying with its lack of control.  
  
And now? There is nobody now. But you are still God, who could heal the earth, impregnated with poison, and populate it again with clear and lucid minds. God, who has endured the era of sin and pain. You could put spirit into a new flesh, purifying it of the old filth.  
  
But you seat near a black sea and submerge your wounded feet in water. You keep silence. You hold in contempt. And you don't want. You won't start anew. Neither beauty, nor light, nor new feelings, begotten by new celestial bodies, won't refresh this earth. Nothing will save it from a new decay where the planetary graveyard was located.  
  
It’ll remember. And its sun will remember. And stars, no matter how far they are... the ones that have seen the debauchery and the agony of a perverse mind, its history, from the very germ to decline. The ones that lighted the monstrous failure, chemical apocalypse. And have seen the tired God's face, pitted with ulcers. They are witnesses. They will memorize.  
  
This world is already depleted.


End file.
